Pity
by lianghwei
Summary: He felt the warmth of her body against his, and at once felt uneasy. But a light seemed to gleam suddenly in his heart, and he, without knowing it, stroked her auburn hair.
1. Chapter I

She wasn't everything.

She wasn't anything.

An ordinary wallflower she was, her green and silver tie shimmering in the sunlight obvious as daytime. It was something she was not proud of. It was not who she was.

She was lost.

Watching the world go by, she did not think she meant a thing. Slytherins scorned her because of her lack of evil; others scorned her because she was a Slytherin. What was she, if stuck in the middle. She was nobody, straight, limp auburn-haired nobody with eyes of warm grey, skin and bones nobody who stepped back for everyone, without anyone noticing she was even there.

Haley was nobody.

So why did fate lead, of all people, him into her life. Him, whom everyone knew, to her life? The Question was to be left unanswered till the end of time…

Winter Holidays, and the Halls were emptied. People went home, people went to Hogsmeade. She, without a home – but an orphanage, without friends – but her echo through the empty halls, strolled and wept.

He, without a true home to go to, with the Daily Prophet hung on his back, searching for a purpose, too strolled through the empty halls.

And they met. A Slytherin and A Gryffindor met. Her tears were spewed across her face, prominent in the daylight. He, with his emerald eyes, scanned the pathetic girl's face. She didn't look like a Slytherin, yet the clothes that hung on her thin frame screamed it out. They stood in silence. He didn't know what his next move should be, as his heart filled with compassion. She felt weak, strength left her legs and was unable to move… and fell…

And before she blacked out, heard his voice, calm, soothing. The most pleasant voice, and the only voice that ever spoke to her with compassion, echoed in her head. It was, as cliché words would illustrate, music to her ears…

He, once again, re-crossed his legs and leaned back on his chair. The hospital wing was empty, except he and her. With a swift hand, he stroked his hand through his hair and sighed. Then, with an impatient attitude, got up to get a closer look at her.

Tear-stricken, skinny face, with hair the colour of winter's fireplace, she wasn't the best view of the century, he'd admit. But there was something that caught him midair, that led him to puzzle about his panic when she fell, and what really compelled him to pick her up in his arms, and carry her to the hospital wing. He felt the warmth of her body against his, and at once felt uneasy. But a light seemed to gleam suddenly in his heart, and he, without knowing it, stroked her auburn hair.

Her eyes fluttered open.

He, jumped back, his face rushing into a bright red. She, with a look of surprise, watched him intently as he tried to explain what he was doing and what exactly happened. With a burst of giggle, she heard his stuttering and his weirdly wide hand gestures. His voice, deep, heartwarming, fluttered her heart slightly. She gazed into his eyes, but then her eyes wandered up to his forehead, where the hideous scar stood proudly.

She gasped.

At once she looked away. She didn't want anything to do with him. She didn't want to face him. She was a nobody, always has been and always will be. All hope had left long time ago, and she simply did not have the strength to once again feel. With her soft, weak voice, she asked him to leave, and politely thanked him.

He, with a disappointed look plastered on his face, took a step back, and gave a wave and a 'goodbye'. She didn't reply. He then turned and walked away.

He did not turn back. Pity. He would have seen her glance back, with the only little hope she managed to grasp, filled her face.

He did not know who she is. But he sees her, everywhere. School starts, and she seems to be letting the world pass by, as people rush by her. She had no friends. She was a Slytherin. Yet of all the Slytherins, she did not share the look of malice and hatred towards anyone. Instead, she kept her head down, afraid to show her face, but it wasn't like anyone would see her…

She was beautiful in his eyes.

At every turn, he tried his best to talk to her. But she always disappeared. In the crowds, she would disappear. Occasionally, she wasn't seen in the school. No one knew where she went. No one even knew who she was. But time and time again, he would walk past the Hospital Wing, and think he saw her. But with a glance back, he would realize that the bed was empty, with creased blankets pulled to the ground.

Pity he didn't take a closer look, and notice the pair of feet that revealed themselves behind the curtains that stood at the next bed. Pity he didn't look closer.

Pity, she didn't look deeper into her heart, through her pride, that she did love a Gryffindor, and famous the Boy who Lived. Pity she didn't notice all her dreams of him at night, but harshly pushed them out of her mind. It was hard, but she did it… She never wanted to love again…

And he, blinking tears in his beautiful jaded eyes, walked away.

Pity…


	2. Chapter II

**Chapter II **

Pity…

Haley stares at herself in the mirror, seeing the cowardice in her eyes. What is she afraid of? Was it Love itself? She was so afraid to stand up, so afraid to show her face. What was she afraid of? She looked so pitiful with her forever tearstained eyes.

Pitiful…

Day and night she thought of him, of his eyes of emerald and firm grip. Yet momentarily would glance at her green and silver tie lying upon her sheet, and dream about a scar, burning bright red, streaking a lightning bolt across soft flesh. AShe would curse and scream inside her head. It was because of who she was. She was his enemy, and forever destined to be.

And week after week she would lie in the hospital wing bed, staring out at the doors, lest he enters. She would then use any bit of her strength to push herself out of bed before he sees her. And Madame Promfrey would find her behind the curtains, brought to her knees in aching pain and weakness, trembling in tears. Her weekly visits to the Hospital wing were unavoidable. She was growing weaker and her strength was leaving her. Soon she would die. Soon she would die…

Death, to her was already a word that had grown common. She, in her whole life, never tried to hurt herself. Because she knew that she would soon die. It was within her whole life. Pity, she did not see the true meaning of life and grasp it, pity she hid herself from the world. But she was so scared that if she were to love, that her love would be crushed. Better to keep her out of the world, where she had no one, than leave a world of unhappiness behind. She would die alone, no one would notice.

Pity…

Harry grew thinner each day, as he lost his appetite each day, and glanced over to the Slytherin table. But he never saw her there. The Slytherins would look back and sneer at him. They spouting words of harshness towards him, as their tattooed mark on their arm burnt with pain. He was the biggest Gryffindor of them all, and they hated him for that. Pity he never dared to look harder, and find her at the doors, slowly walking out with food tucked neatly in her napkin. She never ate with them.

He thought of her. Was she, perhaps just a dream? He was tired, yet his arms still felt the fearful light weight of her small frame. She was so fragile, and that moment stayed imprinted in his mind. He still walked empty corridors, hoping that perhaps he would bump into her once more, like before. But hope was so little, and he had reduced himself to but a lovesick fool. Pity…

But then...

He saw her. At last he saw her. Alone in the dungeons she sat as she worked on her potions, her auburn hair strangled over her pale cheekbones, that stuck out prominently. A cliché moment was shared between them - a Gryffindor with an aching heart, and a Slytherin who felt hopeless in every way. And with determination, he stepped forward.

His footsteps gave him away. She stopped and turned, her eyes growing wide as he approached with sweaty palms and cheesy smile. Her heart pumped wildly in fear. She could not touch him, lest she hurt him. Her hands shivered as she pushed herself up, and with fearful speed sped past him, leaving all books behind.

And he, as he stood alone in the dim lights of the dungeon, stood in shock, as reality would sweep through his mind, wave after wave. She was afraid of him.

And that was how the Potions Master found him, clenched fist, head down, tears spreading down his boyish features, and every potion bottle in the Dungeon – broken to pieces.

Pity…How love has destroyed the young, how hope was just a candle flame, flickering dimly, threatening that at anytime it would, in a soft breath, go out.

Pity…


End file.
